To Play the Game
by Katalinagrey
Summary: As Jack struggles with the issue of time, his captors reveal themselves in their games.


**To Play the Game**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Lost. The people with the pretty money do, however.

**Author's Note**: I'm such a sucker for Angst!Jack-fics. You can imagine my surprise when in the episode "I Do" (one of my all-time favorite LOST episodes) when Jack appears devastated by Kate's choice to suddenly badass in the end. (Not that I'm complaining, of course.) It made me wonder why the sudden change, hence this little fic. Keep in note this takes place during "I Do", so expect some word-for-word quotes and actions that occur in this fic. I made a few vague references to my previous fic _The Color Red_. Because I am pathetic that way.

Keep in mind this is a revised version of this fic. ate up my paragraph breaks and I took the opportunity to add little bit more to give the fic depth. This comes to show that devil is in the details.

I also didn't bother with just posting the revised fic next to the old one, since the changes are not very big in the beginning.

**Summary**: The most dangerous prisoner of all is when he plays his captor's games.

* * *

To hell with the Hippocratic Oath. 

"I didn't say I was going to do it. I want you to understand how you are going to die."

Ben didn't even blink.

I did. I blinked and laughed. It felt good. "Did you think I believed you people? You think I trust you and do the surgery and HOPE that'll you let me go?" I yelled.

(If both of you knew me that well, you all should have known I don't _hope_. Not with the likes of you.)

"Jack!"

Not laughing anymore, I flung the papers at the glass at Juliet. A futile gesture. I was angry. The woman Juliet flinched in surprise, but just slightly, just briefly before becoming professionally blank again.

"Don't—" I cut myself off. It didn't matter. She looked annoyed.

Ben look slightly disappointed as though a date was canceled.

It was hard to figure out Juliet, but I could safely guess she looked betrayed. Well, good for her. I was done being betrayed. I sniffed in disdain and walked away from the wall, away from them. "Well, Jack," Ben started slowly, "I am very disappointed in your decision." He said it like it was a business deal being turned down.

Sucks to be you, Henry. I gave out a small chuckle as I walked toward him, wishing the glass wasn't so thick so I can smash his face in.

"Well, Ben," I said, trying to sound like a professional myself, "At least you won't be disappointed for very long."

They left.

As I heard the clang of the door, I glanced at the camera pointed at me. For the millionth time I wondered if only one person watches me, or rather a rotation of shifts to tend to the screen like in the Hatch. (I can see them but I can't see them.)

Suddenly I realized I didn't care. They are not like us. They play with games, we didn't. The survivors, I mean.

We cut to the chase. These people can afford to play their little mind games. Over at the crash, the first two months meant survival for us. We competed for the best cover, the best fruit, the best clothes . . . hell, even the best water supply. We told lies to one another to get what we needed. Some people might consider lying as a mind game, and it is somewhat true, but we didn't feel the need to pretend to be good guys. We let nature to figure that out.

In many ways, even Sawyer was better than the lowliest Other because he didn't like to play with bullshit. (I'm addressing him past tense because for all I know they killed him.) But then, I have no idea who is considered lower than others, but I can tell there is a power struggle between Juliet and Ben, like Locke and I once did.

Locke. I wonder what he is doing now. I bet he's looking for us right now. The man knows how to track.

Ben claimed once to Michael that they were the good guys. I think I hadn't heard that term in such a long time. Good guys, I mean. It seems so childish, like they have no gray area between right and wrong, as though they didn't consider killing and kidnapping innocent people as wrong.

I sat on the table, the cold table that became my exercise mat, my dinner table, my bed, my chair, my desk. It's funny how you can take one thing and use it for a million other purposes. My throat was dry. My hands clenched the rim of the table, I realized. I made them relax, but my toes clenched together as my fingers slowly let go.

Tense. I'm tense.

I didn't realize how much I missed the beach until now. I miss the sky. I miss watching the clouds turning red and purple. I miss watching it alone, I miss watching it with Kate or Rose or Locke or Sayid or Ana-Lucia—

My throat suddenly felt squeezed at the thought of Ana-Lucia. She wasn't the most liked of individuals but I bet right now, everybody at camp is wishing for Ana-Lucia to lead them on with a take-no-prisoners attitude.

But she's dead. She's dead not because of Michael, but these games these Others play. They were responsible for Libby's death, for Shannon's, for Steve—no, wait, Scott's death. They were—they are—responsible. They forced this sick game on us. (I should really start thinking present tense. Everything is happening now, so time does not matter here.)

I wheeze, trying to stop the urge to laugh and cry at the same time. How everything did went so wrong . . . ?

Got up and stretch. I pace around my room, my tiny room that was built for fish.

Games. That's all there is. Games and games and more games just for their own gains. Ben stated that I was supposed to be a pawn in their chessboard, manipulated for their own reasons. I was so supposed to be brainwashed—no, reprogrammed—into wanting to save his pathetic life.

Question: is him being absolutely disappointed in his plan's failure just another of his games?

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he really is desperate, but he can't show it for . . . for whatever. I don't care. I don't care why.

All I care about is the game.

As I sat down behind the table, away from the camera, I tick off major rules in the game: 1) I must sit in the corner in order to eat.2) I cannot try to escape, for they will subdue me.3) I cannot yell or argue at Juliet or Ben, for they will give nothing.

Hn. Nothing much in the quantities, but fewer the rules the more powerful they become. There is little I can do as a result.

But:

1) Juliet and Ben are vastly different, despite being emotionally bland. 2) Juliet is far more ambitious than Ben. 3) Ben is more concern for his survival and his power. 4) So is Juliet. 5) The camera is always watching. 6) The communicator actually works.

What I can see dimly what I have to do. I have to play their game. I have to do something while not attracting attention to the camera. (I can see them but I can't see them.) I don't know how long it was before the door opened again. Hours, maybe a day passed by. I miss the sun.

It is Juliet. She wasn't—isn't— alone. She is holding another woman's arm, gently but firm. The woman has a sack over head, wearing a top with flower patterns and jeans and boots. I don't have to see her face to know who it is.

Juliet pulls the ugly bag from Kate's face and stepped back slowly. Kate blinked, clearly not used to the gloom. She stops blinking when she saw me. You have to realize Kate's face is almost like Juliet's: hard to pinpoint, but you can barely tell a certain emotion: amazement. Amazed as though she had given up on seeing me again.

I tried to smile. For her.

Not aware of anything else, I went up to the glass and place my hands on the invisible wall. Kate walks towards me, but she doesn't place her hands on the glass. She turned her head slightly toward Juliet, her eyes to the floor, trying to say "I don't feel comfortable with that woman."

I give Juliet a look. Her lips tugged upwards slightly, looking calm and serene and said, "I'll give you two your privacy."

I don't bother to glance at the camera. Instead I focus on Kate. She was dirty, but that was unimportant. The door clangs behind Juliet.

"Hey," I said. "You okay?"

Kate tries to smile, but it is a grim smile. "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah, I'm great." I made my smile bigger, but it hurts. But I have to ask, first things first. "Where are they keeping you?"

Kate's smile falters, looking even grimmer. I wish she could smile again. "Outside. In a cage."

I nod. I'm in a cage too, but it is not as obvious. "Sawyer?"

"He's in a cage too."

I sigh to myself. At least he's not dead. At least they know where each other are. As long as they are together, they have a higher chance of escaping than I do.

But Kate isn't quite done yet. "They're making us work."

Interesting. "Work? On what?"

"I don't know what it is, but it's big." Huh. A project of sorts? If they are making them work then maybe that's a sign of shortage . . . .

I glanced at the camera, and looked back at Kate who was still talking, sounding distressed (in her only way). "We're hauling rocks and—"

"Hey," I interrupt. I have to know. "Did they hurt you?"

Kate's face transforms from being grim to tearful. Her shoulders shook, her head bowed, couldn't look at me in the eye. Breathing went into short gasps as she shut her eyes. Oh no.

"Hey, hey," I try to comfort her, saying in a tone of voice I used often in my patients. "It's going to be alright, it's gonna be—"

"Jack," Kate croaks. Her eyes are shining. "You have to do it."

What? "What?"

"You have—you have to do this thing you were told to do this—operation."

I glance at the camera. It winks at me.

"She said if you do it then they'll—"

No, it's a game. Another game.

"What did they do to you?" Cut to the chase, Kate. Don't dance around the subject. Don't be _them_.

"J-jack," Kate whispered.

"What. Did. They. Do. To you?" I demanded again. I'll them, I'll kill Ben, and I'll kill Juliet—

"Nothing," Kate said, starting to wail. They done something to her, she rarely _wails_!

"How did they get you to ask me?"

"Jack, please, nothing—"

"THEN WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME THIS?"

"Jack, nothing—"

"THEN WHY ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

A sob erupts from her throat. "They're going to kill Sawyer!"

It feels like someone inserted fifty thousand volts in my spine. She's here for Sawyer? She's pleading to me for Sawyer?

No. Another game. It HAS to be.

I turn away, I pace away from her. She sobs behind me. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but she said that if you do it they'll let us go." I turn to her. Tears were swelling behind her eyes but they do not fall. I leaned against the barrier again, palms down.

"And you believe them?" I ask, already knowing the answer. You, Kate, of all people, why did you fall so quickly to _them_?

She stares at me in the eye, her face still contorted from sobbing but firm. "I have to," she whispers.

No, Kate, you don't have to. Don't you—don't you realize this is a fucking GAME? Don't you realize that by now? How can you NOT REALIZE THAT?! I'm disappointed in you.

I'm not playing.

I don't even like games.

"Jack, please!" Kate said, begging.

I look at her in the eye and said, "We're done here."

"Jack . . ."

"Hey!" I gesture to the camera. "Hey, we're done here."

(I can see them but I can't see them.)

"Jack! Jack! I'm sorry, but please do this, please," Kate begs. I turn away from her. Begging to a wall, yelling at a rock, whispering to a stone.

She is still calling out my name after Juliet put the bag over her head and drags her out of the room.

* * *

I sleep on my bed, but not really. I can't sleep because I can still hear Kate's cries. 

_Jack, please!_

I want all of this to go away. I want to bury my father, but my father's body is gone. I want to get this done. I want to go back to my job.

I want—

Hiss, crackle crackle

I startle. Static. From the communicator. I walk over the panel and pressed the TALK button. "Who is this?" Static again.

I press the button once more. "Hello? Hello?"

A female voice said, "Try opening the door." It didn't sound like Juliet . . . I opened the door and walked outside of my cage. I peered into the hallway and saw no one. Good. As I walk down, I see a door. I open it.

(I can see them but I can't see them.)

Six screens in all. One was malfunctioning. I walked past the console and opened a cabinet.Guns. Rifles and pistols. Ammunition. I took one and filled it up with ammo. Now I know what Sawyer felt when he said, "Well, at least now we can get to kill somebody."

As I walked past the console to the door, a screen caught my eye. The middle one in the upper row. Two people, a man and a woman, comforting each other in a cage.

"_Outside. In a cage." _

"_He's in a cage too." _

Oh my God. Oh my God. Kate, Kate, Kate, please . . .

As though my feet are controlling themselves and not me, I walk toward the screen. It is Kate, I can recognize her hair. I feel a wind went inside my head and blew everything away from me. My will, my drive, my readiness. All gone. What's the point now? What's the point of fighting for something that is already lost? What is the point of playing when the game's already ended?

I saw Kate shifted slightly in Sawyer's gentle grip.

It made my stomach drop.

"If it helps I was surprised too."

I spun around and turned the safety off as I aim the gun at Ben. I'll kill him.

Ben doesn't blink. "If I was a betting man I would've picked her and you."

"Shut up!" I snap, angry at him, angry at Sawyer, angry at Kate. No, I realize immediately, I'm not angry.

I'm enraged.

Ben gives the gun in my hand a slight glance as though it isn't important. He stares into empty space, not caring a whit. "Well," he said, calmly. "I suppose this would be the proverbial nail in my coffin, wouldn't it?"

I was screaming at myself, screaming _Let me pull it! Let me do it!_

But there is—was— no reason to bother. Kate's gone. She left. There was no reason to play games anymore, with her or with the Others. Not that I liked games. No, there are no future games for me to play.

I lower the gun.

"Tomorrow."

Ben doesn't—didn't— blink, but his eyes did widen a little bit. "What?"

"I'll get it out. Your tumor. But I need your word. I need what you promise me before. I need to get the _hell_ off this island."

"Done."

Ben still didn't blink.

"Hand me the gun, Jack."

I gave him the gun.

"And go back to your room while we make preparations."

I walked past him. All is past now. There is no present, no future. Just me and my cage.

* * *

The preparations did not take long, apparently, though I can't tell if an hour passed or two days had gone by. But I'm pretty sure it took an hour, since Ben can't afford to wait for two days. 

Lucky him.

I was bagged and taken to the same room where I had to perform emergency aid on a dead woman. _Other_, I corrected myself. They're not even people. Juliet was with me, along with the man who lost his lover—his significant Other. He stared at me, as though hoping to drill a hole into my head and kill me. I ignored him.

As I put on my surgical mask on, I felt a sudden jolt in my brain, a sudden moment of clarity. The sudden realization was as painful as the memory of Ben's words.

"_We had such a wonderful plan to break you, Jack."_

Oh my God.

The communicator, me with the gun, me seeing Kate and Sawyer, me and Ben . . . it was all game. I realized I wasn't breathing. I took in a deep breath.

"Nervous?" Juliet asked me, coming inside the room as she put on her surgeon suit. I noted it had the DHARMA logo.

"No." I turned away, away from her, away to face one of the faucets. Stupid! After all what you consider, you still fell for their stupid games!

"Do you remember our discussion?"

"About what?" We talked about many things. I didn't—I _don't_ remember them at all.

"About how this is the right thing. Ben is a good person."

Her conspiracy to overthrow Ben and take over as leader of the Others, yes, I can recall now. Another game. I can play her game. I turn to Juliet the Other.

"Yes. I doubt he is what he is cracked up to be though."

Juliet understood my answer, still looking serene and blank as she put her mask on, like she needed it. We both turn the faucets on at the same time. I need to address things present tense now.

"This is going to be a very tricky procedure," I continue. (Juliet turns to me, intent.) "If I tell you to do something I want you to do it then and there. No questions asked. Is that understood?"

Juliet lowers her eyes thoughtfully. "You might find this hard to believe but I've always been good at following orders."

What an ironic nod to her offering. If I am not so intent of the job at hand, I would have laugh. "Is that a yes?" I asked. I need confirmation.

"Yes." She nods gracefully, still serene.

"Good," I nod curtly. "Let's go."

We walk out of the room, the loveless Other following. I notice how he is gripping both the holster and his walkie-talkie.

"_They did this!" he screamed as the flat line became reality to him. He ran out of the room, pulling out a gun._

The walkie-talkie clicks, echoing a similar sound in my brain. Ben is on the table, ready to go, along with two other Others in scrubs. Ben looks me, now slightly wary. Well, Ben, you wanted me to work on you. I let an Other put my gloves on.

"You get nervous," he asks quietly. "Before you do surgery?"

I turn to him. Bedside manner again. "I used to. But not anymore, no." I said shortly. I will give him that much comfort before I kill him.

"Whatever happens, everything would be very different, won't it?"

I checked a needle. "No doubt about it." Another little joke, this time it's mine. Everything changed after my realization about this place. He speaks again, this time not directed towards me. "Juliet, did Alex asked for me?"

Alex?

"No." Juliet replies. "We took her home last night. I don't know where she is right now." This time, I am not too sure whether or not she's lying to Ben, or she's lying indirectly to me to throw me off. People are tricky that way. Just ask Sawyer.

"Well," Ben declares, after considering this small matter. "See you on the other side." He placed his head against the headrest. "I'm ready."

"I need you to countdown to twenty," I order gently, the back of my mind cataloging everything these Others had said and done. There is somebody named Alex and Ben shows concern for her. Juliet assumes I will botch the surgery, just like she hopes I would. The man who lost his Other will be suspicious of me as I failed to save a dead woman and will not hesitate to kill me. They all think I'm a broken person from "Them".

Just because I don't like playing games doesn't mean I'm not good at it.

(I can see them but I can't see them.)

"Twenty, nineteen, eight . . ." He trails off. Ben is under.

I cut him open.

At the corner of my eye, I see the angry Other leaving, his hand on his pistol, muttering to another man as they left. They leave Tom alone. Alone with me, with my mercy. Juliet and the other assistants no longer matter now.

I open Ben up to see the tumor, to see the spine, to see . . .

His kidney sack.

I'll keep my word to Juliet, but not really. I cut the sack.

Beep beep beep. Best thing I heard in a long time.

"What happen? Is he okay?" Juliet asked, pretending to be concerned. Lying to be concerned.

"His blood pressure is dropping." One of the assistants said. (Beep beep beep beep) He walked over to me, agitated. "He shouldn't be bleeding like that!"

"Nope, nope he shouldn't." I turn around and punch him in the face. He falls like a dead body. The two women jerk back, gasping in shock.

"Back away from the table." I told to Juliet.

Her eyes are bright. Not in fear, but in anger. "Jack—"

"BACK AWAY FROM THE TABLE! NOW!" I have no time for your games, you lying, deceptive _Other_.

Beep. I turn to Tom. He's still alone. As I approached him I pull the mask down. He needs to see my face. Juliet looks shock and angry, obviously feeling betrayal. Now you know a simmer of what I had felt, Juliet. From my ex-wife, from you, from Ben, from Kate—

Get on track, Jack.

Tom is in shock. "Can you hear me in there?" He nods, scared for Ben but worried for himself. "Good. I just made a small incision inside Ben's kidney sack. If I don't stitch that up in the next hour, he's _dead_." I emphasize on the last word and paused. Let him soak in the reality. "Now get in here and bring that walkie-talkie."

He came inside the room, looking like he wants to kill me. Of course, he can't. His gun is useless now.

"I know," I start. "That one of you guys is going to kill Sawyer. So two of your guys leave just as I started the operation?"

Tom says nothing.

"He's going to their cages. I know that. You know that. Make him give the walkie to Kate."

The Other hesitates. Stupid of him to think like that. "Tick tock," I remind him. He grits his teeth. He swallows and picks up his walkie.

"Danny you there? Pick it up. Pick it up, Danny, pick it up, dammit."

"WHAT?" The Other named Danny shout. I could hear rain. The cages must be outside. Good.

"Are you anywhere near the cages?"

A pause. A definite downpour. Even better. "Yeah, you can say that."

"Give your walkie to Kate."

"Why in the hell would I do that?" Danny roars. He must be really mad if he can't do a simple action of the arm.

Tom looks at me (I calmly tugged my blood-red gloves off) and licks his lips nervously. "Because if you don't the doctor is going to let Ben die!"

"What are you talking about? What's that beeping?" The guy demands.

"Just hand her the damn walkie Danny!" His eyes are red now. "Do it, just do it now!" He glares hatefully at me. But that's fine, the feeling's mutual.

"Jack?" Kate sounded like she was sobbing. I must be in the nick of time to stop Sawyer's execution. My stomach flutters. Tom tosses the walkie. I grab it and turn my back toward them. They shoot me from behind, they'll kill Ben.

"Kate. You've got an hour's head start before they come after you."

"Where . . .?" She sounded scared and dazed. "Where are you? Where are you?"

I ignore her questions. "Remember what I told you on the beach? The day of the crash? The story I told you about while you were stitching me up?"

Only the static replies.

"Do you remember?" I yell.

"Yes, yes, I remember!" She howls.

"When you get safe, you radio me and you tell me that story." Kate interrupts me.

"Jack, please . . ." No, don't say that, Kate. It's too late. I'm in the operation now; I'm doing it for you.

"If I don't get a call from the next hour I know something went wrong and he DIES!" I roar the last word toward everyone, including the knocked out Other.

"I can't leave without you."

You just did, Kate. "Yes you are. Go."

"Jack, I can't—" I don't want to hear your excuses now. I can't now I am playing this game. I can't afford to be distracted. I have to play.

"Go now!" You are a fugitive. Running is what you do best!

"Jack I can't!" She howls.

"Kate, dammit, run!"

* * *

I can see them but I can't see them. 

They can see me, however.

Or so they thought.

_

* * *

__Tell me exactly  
what am I supposed to do?  
Now that I have  
allowed you to beat me!  
Do you think that  
we could play another game?  
Maybe I can win this time?_

-"The Game", Disturbed

* * *

Note: You might notice the sudden flipping with the present and past tense. This was deliberate. I imagined Jack would have difficulty telling the time, and I bet Juliet won't be helping him out with the time anytime soon. 


End file.
